Empty Apologies
by balai
Summary: Katara kills her mother's killer, Yon Rha, and Zuko stands by her decision every step of the way. They keep it a secret. But slowly, her lies begin to unravel as the urge to bloodbend begins to poison her heart. One by one, victims fall prey to her will until finally, the new Fire Lord cannot watch passively by any longer.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: This is a work of fan-fiction and therefore the author claims no rights to the original content or characters (Avatar: the Last Airbender).**

**Warning: arguably, there will be quite a bit of OOC elements to this story. While I was reading up on bloodbending, it said that it can have negative effects in the long term, so this will be exploring that, A LOT.**

**Let me know what you think so far, and I'll hopefully have something more soon. Enjoy!**

* * *

Prologue

* * *

_ASC 110: Ten years after the fall of the Phoenix King._

"You need to stop lying to yourself, Zuko. It isn't flattering."

The words were hissed through cold, iron bars in the still of night. Outside—from what could be seen of the _outside_ through the small, slitted window so far above the ground—there was no light. No glow from the moon, nor any from the stars, and not a single cloud floated across the sky. It was dark and it was cold (too cold, it seemed, for the Fire Nation) and Zuko found himself moving closer to the flame of the torch he held as he knelt down before the bars to the cell.

He sighed deeply, the weight of their troubles hanging heavily in the set of his jaw and the slant of his brow. His pale hand wrapped around the metal that separated them and the pain was obvious in his face and in the white-knuckled grasp—but it was not physical. His heart hurt. He felt as though it was going to drown him at any given moment and he would just _give in_ if it would stop making him feel so bad.

The clicking noise she made with her tongue echoed around the stone walls drew him away from his thoughts and he slowly opened his eyes, letting them focus again on the woman in front of him.

"I don't know what else to do. You're not leaving me much of a choice." His head hung low, but he watched her through narrowed eyes.

Katara chuckled cruelly and rolled her eyes at his reply. "That's not true. You have _many_ choices. You just don't like the one you picked." It was _his_ choice—and she felt the need to remind him. He could _so easily_ change their situation—he could _let her go_—

He shook his head. "I can't, Katara. This is the way it has to be. This is the lesser of the two evils."

Her body slammed up against the metal door encaging her and the hinges shook at the sudden motion. Katara's eyes were wide with emotion—was it fury or pain, he couldn't tell—and she shook at the iron ineffectively. "_Locking me up_ is the lesser of your _evils_? Am I _evil_ now, Fire Lord?" It was shocking how piercing and dangerous her voice sounded as it bounced throughout the stone fortress.

Zuko looked at her sadly. _Why hadn't he seen it sooner?_

"You're not evil, Katara." He reached out and brushed his fingers against the cool skin of her cheek. It was _almost_ surprising when she flinched away (he'd expected her to snap at him with her teeth this time). He shook his head. "What you've _done _is evil."

"I _saved_ people," she shouted. Her fists swung against the hard metal and he knew it hurt her, but she refused to show any sign of pain. "I saved _you_!"

"You've killed innocent people—"

"_They were not innocent_!"

"—and you've perverted the gift you were blessed with. You used to heal people, Katara. What happened to that?"

Her eyes slashed right through him. "I'm healing the _world_. If you had any sense, you'd help me."

"And I want to help you," he said softly. He reached in through the bar and took her hand in his, winding his fingers between hers. _Agni help me_. He hoped for a moment that her eyes would soften—that the wonderful, soothing ocean in her soul that he'd grown so addicted to would be his to see once more. But her stony exterior did not give way, and she stared him down as though she was a lionshark that was calculating his every move before he even thought it. Zuko pulled her hand through and grazed his warm lips against the chalky skin on her knuckles. "But this is not how to heal the world."

She used to _know_ that (but then his helping had changed it all.)

"What is your plan, then, Great Son of Ozai?" He flinched at the title. Her fingernails dug into his skin but he didn't let her hand go. Her tongue spoke as though laced with fire and poison but he did not stand down. "Will you raze the world like the Phoenix King?"

She pulled him closer by the arm, until the only thing keeping their lips from touching was the tense breath that fanned from both their mouths. He tried to pretend she looked scared—and maybe she did, but she'd become such a great _actress_ that he couldn't tell. "Foreign relations and peace treaties be damned, you know as well as the next that there is nothing keeping the unity of our new world except the fear of another inevitable power struggle. Will you bring about the glory of the ever prosperous Fire Nation once more? With me at your side, it would be so easy to pick through and keep only those _best_ _suited_ for your utopia—all this in the name of peace. Tell me, Fire Lord, will we all be great _firebenders?"_

"No," he said after a belated pause. He finally dropped her hand and stepped back (it may have been his imagination, but he thought she leaned in follow of his retreat). "But we won't be bloodbenders, either. We will be a world of free people—with free will and honour and dignity."

_Control over our own bodies._

Zuko hung the torch back in its bracket beside the door to her cell and sighed. Maybe another day would wield more satisfying results—and maybe another day would find her more the woman he once knew.

"Goodnight, Katara."

She yelled at him as he began the long trek down the hall. "You're just going to walk away from me, then?"

His footsteps halted—but he could not turn to look at her. The desperate glimmer in her eyes as they reflected the torchlight—he couldn't see it. He couldn't look back and _swear to Agni_ that the imperceptible tilt to her lips was her old self fighting through. He couldn't let himself be swallowed alive by the hope.

Not again.

"I will never walk away from you." In the deep pockets of his cloak, his fingers rubbed against the silken ribbon that she had once worn so proudly around her delicate neck. They tightened around the stone—he could feel his muscles straining with the vice—and his eyes clenched shut. "But I can't stand so closely anymore."

Her fists slammed against the metal in time with his footsteps as he continued on his way. "You're a traitor, Zuko! That's all you've ever been."

It cut, but Fire Lord Zuko had more important things to consider than his damaged pride and torn heart. "Maybe. But you betrayed yourself long ago."

-/-/-

The Council of Nations was particularly solemn that morning. Perhaps it was the rain that pounded against the roof of the Royal Palace. Perhaps it was the very-public-and-very-sad funeral procession that had marched through the city the last three days as families carried off diseased corpses to be cremated. Perhaps their travels had been uneasy or perhaps it was simply the _atmosphere_ of the War Room itself.

It could have been any of those reasons, Zuko figured, but he was more than willing to bet that the downcast eyes and forlorn expressions were more due to the nature of their meeting than any outside influence. Even Aang hadn't cracked a smile since he took his seat opposite the Fire Lord's throne (Zuko hated sitting in the throne—hated being set _apart_ when they were meant to be discussing _unity_ and _equality_).

So many eyes were watching him—how _long_ had they just been staring?—and Zuko felt his stomach twist uneasily, more so than it had been doing on its own for weeks. He ran a hand over his face with a sigh and pulled himself to a full stand (he _really _hated that throne).

"Well?" The elder from the Northern Water Tribe was the first to speak and the rasping quality to his voice bitterly reminded Zuko just _how_ close to the situation they all really were.

His hands clasped behind his back. "As of now, we have the bloodbender locked in the palace hold. After the last attack, guards—"

Aang bolted from his seat. "_You locked up Katara_?"

Zuko's ears thrummed in pain and he had to look away from the boy. "Avatar Aang, I respectfully implore you to refrain from interrupting so that we may solve this matter as _painlessly_ as possible."

_Please_.

Even _Sokka_ had remained silent thus far. Aang took his seat once more—though it wasn't Zuko's imagination that the boy looked more crestfallen than he had before—and Zuko nodded at him, silently expressing his gratitude. Toph sat to the left of the boy and placed a supportive hand on his shoulder but her head remained staring, unseeing, at the dark fabric pooling on her lap (and if anyone asked, she was most definitely _not_ crying, _got it Sparky?_).

He took in a deep breath. "After the last attack, we have decreased guard activity around her immediate cell but the security of the wing has been insured by a series of locks that are specific to firebenders. For the safety of my staff, she has been receiving a regulated dose of sedatives with her meals and a limited supply of water throughout the day with no access at night." (He felt sick to his stomach.)

Zuko tried very hard to keep his chin high as he avoided the probing eyes of the chair members before him. "I must stress that if this were not such a serious threat, I would never approve such treatment." As it was, he barely tolerated it.

He watched Sokka's eyes narrow and Hakoda's eyes narrow at the verbalization of Katara being a _threat_—especially a _serious_ one—and he found himself unable to look away.

"The bloodbender—Master Katara, is a great personal friend of mine (as well as many of yours) and I find my judgment to be clouded. This is why I humbly ask you—all of you—not as Fire Lord but as a man and a fiancé," he choked back the word with burning eyes and a heavy tongue. "I ask you for your guidance and your assistance."

Years ago, it would have been a sign of weakness and submission when the Fire Lord sunk to his knees in a rigid bow before the council. Now, however, he simply meant to demonstrate his complete compliance and respect.

Hands on his knees, Zuko did not raise his head. "I beg you to help me make the right choice."

-/-/-

Sokka's fist slammed into the wall with a loud c_rash._

The council had ruled that bloodbending was an ethical breach of human rights—no matter what nation or element you belonged to.

_Crash._

Katara was being tried for not only _bloodbending_—but also _murder_.

_Crash._

Ten _known_ charges of murder.

_Crash._

They had emphasized the word 'known'.

_Crash._

As if there could be _more._

_Crash. Crash Crash._

His—

_Crash._

—baby—

_Crash._

—_sister!_

_Crash._

"Sokka!"

Suki rushed in as fast as she could (and for being nine-months-pregnant-and-still-counting, that was pretty fast). She grasped his forearm between her hands before he could deal another blow to the apparently offending wall, and though her fingers were soft and her touch was light, he knew that he wouldn't get away if he tried.

"Suki," he croaked out—and that was all he could say before the tears swelling in his eyes overflowed and then suddenly he was sobbing into her shoulder (sobbing in a _manly_ way, to be sure) and his hands held her small frame against him so tightly she briefly wondered if he'd ever snapped anyone in half. She ran her hands through his long, dark hair and whispered at him and hushed him and softly muttered words that had before comforted him so well. His hand that he'd been using to desecrate the wall stung and he knew it was bleeding all over Suki's pretty wrap, but he couldn't find it in him to move or pull away or _stop_ crying.

Her hands feathered across his face as she pulled back and she wiped away the tears from his cheeks. "Sokka, talk to me." He wanted to look away, but she held his face just-so and wiped away his tears—and he just _couldn't_. He gripped her tighter and cried again into the crook of her neck, mumbling and shaking his head back and forth as she rubbed his back.

"They can't," he finally stuttered out when he felt like he could _breathe_ again. "The sentencing—I can't—they—they're going to kill her. They're going to kill Katara."


	2. Chapter 2

**This chapter is derived directly from Book 3, Episode 16 "The Southern Raiders" and most of the dialogue is taken from that (_let it be known across the land that they are not my words..._). But of course I sunk in my claws and made it messy and twisted. Oopsie.**

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_ASC 100: Mere days before the coming of Sozin's Comet._

Yon Rha.

The name became a steady anthem in her mind, skirting around the edges of her thoughts without reprieve. _Yon Rha_. Her mother's killer. The rain poured down around them and Katara let the name follow the quick, heavy drops that resounded in her ear.

_YonRhaYonRhaYonRhaYonRha. Yon Rha._

Where they hid, they had a clear view of the man as he made his way from town back to the small house where he lived with his grizzly mother. He was withering away. His face was beginning to sag with age but the angles that played at the sun-touched skin were sharp and cutting, making him appear gaunt, and she knew without a doubt that his scowl was permanent. His body had become skeletal from malnutrition and though the signs of developed muscle from his days in the navy still showed in his arms, it was more than obvious that the man had become frail beyond his reputation. Seeing him so touched by the hardships of wartime, it was almost enough that she could see him as a real person just like everyone else.

But he wasn't like everyone else. He had taken her mother from her, and that made him _so different_.

Firebender or not, he had become an ember that was fighting for its breath of life in a dying mantle (easy enough to snuff out).

"Nobody sneaks up on me without being burned!" The basket of vegetables fell from his hands as the man turned suddenly and blasted a stream of flames at a bush behind him that had aroused such suspicion in his narrow-minded paranoia. The immense blast engulfed an entire tree, fighting against the rain to consume at the foliage.

Katara quirked an eyebrow at this. The old man had more fuel left in him than she had imagined—but of course, _what else could she expect from a firebender_?

The duo remained silent, waiting, and along the path Yon Rha seemed to have decided he'd simply imagined the rustling that had frightened him into his aggressive defense. She counted five breaths before the murderer lowered his fist. He bent down and plucked the fallen food from the dirty, wet earth and almost immediately as he had turned his back to walk the other way, his foot caught against their trap (beneath her mask, her eyes narrowed with a viciously satisfied smile). The old man stumbled and fell face-first into the mud in front of him. As he pushed himself up, a gust of fire licked at the ground before him, causing the man to jolt away from the offending flames.

Before him, Zuko stood in a wide stance; eyes hard, fists ready. "We weren't behind the bush." He advanced on the old man who cowered on the ground like a pathetic slug fearing the sun. "And I _wouldn't_ try firebending again."

The coward could do nothing but cower pathetically, his voice shrimpish. "Whoever you are, take my money. Take whatever you want. I'll cooperate."

She'd waited long enough. Katara approached the man, staring down at him with hate prevalent in her hard blue eyes and she pulled the black mask away from her face as she revealed the scowl to him. "Do you know who I am?" Her voice was lethal.

"No." His voice quaked. "I'm not sure."

_Wrong answer._ "Oh, you better remember me like your life depends on it! Why don't you take a closer look?"

For a moment, there was a stagnant pause where all the pitiful shriveled husk of a man could do was stare into her eyes. "Yes," he said at last, "yes, I remember you now." It wasn't her imagination that his eyes narrowed, lost in a memory or perhaps a _victory_. "You're that little Water Tribe girl."

_Now tell me, who is it? Who's the waterbender?_

_There are no waterbenders here. The Fire Nation took them all away a long time ago._

_You're lying. My source says there's one waterbender left in the Southern Water Tribe. We're not leaving until we find the waterbender!_

_It's me. Take me as your prisoner._

_I'm afraid I'm not taking prisoners today..._

Yon Rha gulped back fear—selfish fear at having been found out in his wrongdoings. _The coward_. Lightning struck somewhere in the distance and for a moment, their world was bathed in unforgiving white light. _He looked so old._

"She lied to you. She was protecting the last waterbender."

The young waterbender's emotions felt overwhelming—so much so, that she wouldn't allow herself to dwell on the fact that (if she were really listening to what the man was saying) it was her fault, in some ways, that her mother had fallen victim that day.

The news did not sit well with the man and his eyes widened in shock. "What? Who?"

Then suddenly, Katara spun around. "Me!"

Katara's arms thrust out, halting the falling raindrops and creating a shield above the three of them. Her breath heaved in and out of her heavy-falling chest with a latent wait, and then without warning, she sent a forceful stream of water at Yon Rha. Halfway through her attack, however, the stream shifted into a barrage of sharp pointed daggers of ice, each gleaming viciously as light hit their deadly tips. Yon Rha crouched in fear, as though he could seem any more pitiful, and he knew in that moment that his life would be over. He only feared the impact. But the ice daggers never made contact with his skin, and his eyes slowly turned upward with the realization. As their gazes clashed, her expression softened and the daggers melted away to mere droplets as they fell to the dusty ground.

The pitiful, feeble man fell to his knees in a pleading gesture. "I did a bad thing! I know I did and you deserve revenge. So why don't you take my mother? That would be fair." A weak smile spread over his thin, crinkled lips and Katara wondered how he could _possibly_ smile (much less _joke_) about something like that. He didn't understand the pain; he didn't _care._

Yon Rha was oblivious to the creeping pools of water that receded from him back to Katara's reach. He was oblivious to the magnetic buzzing she could feel at her fingertips, keeping her from leaving. She _knew_ his apologies were empty and written in selfish fear rather than remorse, and he was just _oblivious_.

"I've come to realize that with war comes casualties." Small rivulets of water began to creep up her leg to her forearm, winding their way around her form. "My mother, for instance, was a casualty."

"Please—"

"And now you will be, too."

The old man's eyes widened. He tried to blink, but as he did, his body was gripped by something he couldn't see—something that could _see_ every bit of him, and he could feel it pulling at him, stretching him. Kneeling on the ground, all he could do was stare in paralyzed horror as a long, thin stream of red water (_was water red?_) was drawn from his throat. A strangled gasp escaped his lips, the sound akin to one who was drowning but there was no water to invade his lungs.

The red liquid flew to Katara's outstretched hands and spun, needle-thin, between her palm in twisting and curling shapes, blending seamlessly with the clear water she had been manipulating. Her eyes locked on his, and he drew back at the danger that churned behind their surface.

He didn't even blink. The needle-thin stream of blood burst into his chest, piercing his lung in an instant.

Their eyes met (Zuko watched from the side; hoping that he was imagining the entire disaster) and Yon Rha's mouth formed words as his mouth moved wordlessly, pleading for reprieve, pleading for pardon, _begging_ for _forgiveness_. But she knew. She knew he was not sincere in his pleads. He begged for a guilty conscience, and he pleaded for a clean slate—but he had ruined her life. He had destroyed her entire childhood. He _murdered her mother_.

How _dare_ he ask that?

"If it eases your pain, you _might_ be seen as a martyr."

A burst of red exploded from the near-center of his chest, popping with a sickly smack, and much to the effect of a destroyed war-balloon plunging toward the ground, Yon Rha felt his chest gasp and wheeze and ache for air at the intrusion and he fell to the ground face-first in the thick muddy slop that the rain had left behind. Katara looked on at him for what felt like an eon—and she burned from the inside, her chest aching for _more_. It wasn't enough—not with the pain he'd inflicted on her. Not with the years of sadness and anger that he'd released on her family. He had _destroyed_ them and this was _not_ enough—

-/-/-

Her eyes were closed when they approached her. Aang's running feet pounded against the dock and Katara sighed. She kept her face tilted towards her lap as the cool ocean water lapped at her toes.

"Katara, are you okay?" Aang asked it in such a concerned voice that she almost wanted to answer honestly—she _almost_ wanted to tell him everything and explain just how _not-okay_ she really felt. But instead, the angry pinch in her brow deepened and she schooled her lips to form a blank line.

"I'm doing fine."

"Zuko told me what you did." He didn't sound accusatory, but at the words, her eyes flew open and she spun, still sitting, to pin her gaze on Zuko. She was careful to make sure that she looked impassive (far more so than she really felt) but he wasn't even looking at her. He was staring out at the water as the setting sun splayed shades of orange and red across the glassy surface.

"Or what you didn't do, I guess." She looked at Aang this time and he was smiling softly at her as though that would help her feel reassured. _Zuko had lied_. And _that_ was why he wouldn't look at her. The waterbender looked away once more, staring out as the prince was doing and managing to look much angrier than him. "I'm proud of you," Aang finished.

"Don't be proud. I wanted to do it."

The young Avatar accepted her confession with tense content—he was simply happy that she hadn't done more. He was perfectly happy believing their lie (and it truly was theirs). "You did the right thing. Forgiveness is the first step you have to take to begin healing."

Katara pulled her feet from the water and stood slowly, taking a moment to herself before she turned to face them. Her eyes were dark with anger. "But I didn't forgive him." This time when she looked past the young boy to the silent firebender, he was looking right at her as though he had expected her to do just that. Neither of them smiled as they regarded each other with the heavy weight of their secret looming above them. "I'll never forgive him."

When she walked past him, Katara placed a soft palm against Zuko's arm. He'd thought by the look in her eye that she was going to say something (and she almost had, but that was a conversation for another time). When she was gone, it was just Zuko and Aang alone as the night began to set in around them and the Avatar watched his waterbending master walk off with a smile on his face and Zuko pitied the boy. Even in all the time he'd spent chasing him, he had _never_ pitied Aang (he had envied him and hated him, but pity was a new emotion).

He was so hopeful. "You were right about what Katara needed. Violence wasn't the answer."

"It never is." He was obviously pleased by Zuko's words, and Zuko pitied him more as his guilt began to chew at his chest.

_If he knew the truth…_

"Then I have a question for you." Zuko turned to Aang, and in a sudden flash all the humour melted away from the young monk's face. _And justly so._ "What are you gonna do when you face my father?"

-/-/-

Her footsteps were silent on the soft grass, but he was a master at stealth whereas she was merely a novice and he'd heard her coming before she could even see his form. She drew back the tent flap that sealed him away from the world and ducked as she allowed herself entrance, neither needing nor seeking permission. Her legs curled beneath her as she sunk to the tent floor and though his back was to her lit by the small flickering of a lone candle, she knew he was paying avid attention to her sudden appearance.

"Why did you do it?" She asked, without any allusion to the subject that she inquired about. She knew that he would know. She had been unable to think of anything else since they'd returned from the dock, and from the vacant, haunted look in his eyes, she knew he had to (it was luck that he was usually so stoic because if he weren't, the others would have wondered).

"Would you rather I told him?"

"No," she admitted. She didn't ever want Aang to know—he didn't want any of them to know, truth be told. "But I want to know why you didn't."

"How you deal with your own demons is your decision. He doesn't understand that yet, and he doesn't yet see how the world isn't all black or white. If you choose to, it will be your choice to tell him."

"And if I choose not to?" The question rung through the air, unspoken and teeming with powerful energy.

Zuko merely shrugged. "Then he won't know. Your pain is your own. Avatar or not, he has no say in how you deal with it."

But they both knew he would never respect her choice if he knew the truth. Aang had promised he would, but they both knew that he clung too tightly to his monk-like ideals for peace and the importance of every life to really accept her decision that had marked her forever as a killer. He was too naive and she was the shining beacon of hope in his childlike eyes. His goddess couldn't be anything less than perfect, not if his morale was going to rescue their world from this endless despair.

Katara's fingers twisted together and she stared at the tan flesh, unable to meet his eye. "Are you disappointed that I did it?"

After what seemed like forever, Zuko turned around to face her. She'd been expecting to see the empty expression that the Prince displayed so casually but instead she was met with soft eyes and a tender frown that left no hints to how he was feeling. (Was he angry? Disappointed? Sad?)

"I-I think I had hoped that you wouldn't. But no, I'm not disappointed. I would have done the same." He would have done it if she hadn't.

He was breathing in time with the small flame and she matched the rise and fall of her chest to his.

The prince sucked in a breath and the small flame surged. "I need to know what you're thinking now." He'd noticed in her like she had in him the way the last day's events had weighed on her soul. She finally met his gaze-after all he'd done for her, she owed him her honest answer and the respect of her attention.

"I don't regret it, Zuko. I want to regret it, but I don't think I ever will."

"Why did you choose to do it?" He had wondered since it happened but he had wanted to wait until she was ready to tell him on her own. But patience had never been his strength, and his curiosity burned deep in his veins.

Katara sighed. "It didn't feel like a choice. I felt like I had to." She didn't know how to explain the inexplicable call that she felt when the moon was full above her and the way it pulled her bending to the man-the puppet-and she couldn't explain the muddied feeling it created in her mind, how it disoriented her and left her unable to resist.

She definitely didn't know how to tell him that she'd enjoyed it.

Zuko nodded and he said nothing more.

More than an hour later she took her leave. As she moved to stand, she laid her small cool hand against his warm knee and whispered, "Thank you." He didn't reply, but he gave the slightest grim smile and his eyes remained closed.

She crept out of the tent and back to her own and fell into her sleeping mat but her eyes remained open and she did not sleep. Back in the dim light of his own small tent, Zuko's eyes opened slowly. His face showed no expression, but there was a strain in his honey coloured eyes.

He blew out the candle.


End file.
